Flickers of Light
by The Moonlily
Summary: Asides from "A Light that Endures". 15/4/2014: "Summer"
1. All of Me

**Title: **Flickers of Light

**Genre: **Romance/General

**Rating: **M

**Pairing: **Éomer/Lothíriel

**Disclaimer: **The Lord of The Rings is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien and his estate. This is a work of fanfiction, written for the enjoyment of myself and others. No financial profit is made by writing this.

**Summary:** Asides from "A Light that Endures"

**Author's Note: **I think at this point it should be a very well-known fact among my readers that I have no self-control and I love to put myself into situations where I have two stories running at the same time. Well, to be honest this is not supposed to be an actively running spin-off or anything. The idea belongs to my readers, namely **solar1 **and **Elealyon **who wished to see the proposal scene. And when I was putting together this small thing it occurred to me: maybe I should have an entire aside story where I could update small (and potentially fluffy) drabbles/scenes every now and then?

I know that proposal came and went and is old news at this point of the story, but I don't care and I want some light stuff right now, so here it is at last. I will try to put aside some other scenes here and there, but altogether this collection of asides should be of a lighter nature than _A Light that Endures _is. Hope you enjoy it in any case!

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**1# All of me**

The Golden Hall of the King was more full of people than Lothíriel had ever seen it. Indeed, it felt like the entire population of Edoras had somewhere got the idea they should all squash in and see if they could fit there. Soft chatter rose and fell at times, and everyone's attentions were directed towards the far end of the Hall.

"What is this even supposed to be?" asked Amrothos in irritation as he followed her; Lothíriel was with some difficulty clearing a way for them so that they could reach the other side of the hall, where she hoped the lord of this household would be. People made way reluctantly, and usually only when she made her best frown and informed the stubborn person standing on her way that she was King Elessar's personal messenger and had urgent business with the King. Her liege-lord's name worked almost instantly, as it was common knowledge that the two kings were very good friends. It wasn't nice to lie of course, but she felt Éomer wouldn't mind too much if he knew it was so that she could get to him.

"It's a gathering for the King's Justice, of course", she hissed over her shoulder. This was no time to start and explain her brother the Rohirric customs and how they had a far more direct relationship with their kings than was the case with Gondor.

"Do they have to gather so thickly, though?" Amrothos complained.

"Shut up, brother. We're almost there", she told him and stopped to persuade a particularly broad and tall rider to make way for them. Indeed, if they just were able to move forward few more feet they'd be able to see the dais and the throne.

Amrothos grumbled something to himself, but he kept following her – probably because he had not much choice about it at this point.

They stopped at last when Lothíriel had been able to get them to a spot from where they could see the King of Rohan executing his justice; this was about fifteen feet from the dais to the left from the throne. It was close enough for _him _to see them, if he had looked that way. However, Éomer was fully concentrated on the task at hand. In other words, he was completely focused on being the lord and ruler of this land.

The King's seat sat at the centre of the dais, facing the Golden Hall. On his both sides stood men of his own guard, dressed in heavy armour and rich green cloaks that bore the signs of the King's Riders – any sign of malicious intent would have immediately roused these men to protect their lord. Behind the throne were hanging the banners of his House: there was the White Horse of Eorl and the sun emblem, worked into the fabrics with skill any expert of embroidery could admire. The hangings were framed by golden cravings and pillars of wood, and far above the throne was a golden knot pattern so elaborate Lothíriel almost forgot herself staring at it. But the voice of the man sitting below that called back her attention.

How he sat there on the throne of the Riddermark, looking completely at ease and command of the situation, and with a circlet resting on his head... he truly was king. The look of his dark keen eyes was nothing like she had seen before: gone were the warmth and tenderness he showed to her. In one breathless moment she understood he was so much more than just that, and there were many things to him she had yet to learn.

And yet it was _him. _He was there in flesh, not just as a thought that would not leave alone her thoughts and dreams. Éomer was there and somehow this moment she became acutely aware of how easy it would be to lose him, and how many were the other eyes that followed his steps with longing. He could quite literally choose any unmarried woman in the western kingdom, and he owed nothing to the silly wild princess who in her stubborn insistence and in her fear had not really understood what it meant to have the love of this man who was lion among men. Amrothos had been more right than he had realised: if she let go of Éomer of Rohan, she'd forever regret it.

She moved. Without thinking she pushed through the crowd, eyes fixed on him; he had not yet seen her, but was talking in Rohirric and sounding a lot like he was finishing this gathering. But he never got to the end of it.

"Wait! I have a matter for the attention of the King", called Lothíriel over the crowd, interrupting him. All the eyes in the hall turned to her and she heard offended muttering – they were wondering who dared to interrupt the King when he was speaking.

He did not seem offended at all: instead, King Éomer sat frozen on his throne, staring at her in silence, and doubtlessly he was wondering just where she had appeared from and how could it even be that she was here. And yet, surprised as he was, she could see the way his eyes lit up at the sight of her, for the sheer pleasure of seeing her.

It was good to see him too, because he filled up that empty space he had left behind when he had departed, and all things suddenly made sense, and why had she been so blind?

_I have missed you. I want to kiss you. I want you to shake me until I see stars for being so stupid. I want you to take this ache you left me with and turn it into something beautiful. _

Those were not things one could say on the front of a crowd... but there was one thing she _could _say.

"Éomer King", she spoke, and it was a wonder how steady and strong her voice sounded then, "I have come here for one purpose, and one alone."

"What purpose is that, my lady?" he asked, staring at her.

She smiled.

"I have come to ask for your hand in marriage."

The silence in the Golden Hall of Edoras could have been cut with a knife. Somewhere, a glass dropped, and the sound of it breaking against the stone floor was all the more loud, and yet it did nothing to break the quiet. _Maybe this wasn't what you said in the front of crowd either. _

If Éomer's face had been surprised before, now it was just completely flabbergasted. With wide eye he stared at her, as though wondering if he was dreaming. He was quiet so long that Lothíriel began to worry she had made a huge mistake, but then suddenly he moved. With what looked like one fast but smooth movement he rose from the throne and came to her. There, on the front of the silent crowd, he picked up both her hands. Her heart skipped a beat as she searched his face... but the only thing she could see there was a large smile, the kind she had never seen before.

"And my answer is yes, my Lady Princess", he said. Somehow, he was able to turn his voice both soft but also loud, so that his people could hear what he told her. He spoke again, but now so that only she heard, "You may have it, my dearest Lioness. As a matter of fact you may have all of me."

"I will not be content with anything less", she told him... and just like they had kissed in the port of Harlond she kissed him again now, there before his people and the eyes of the Mark, and that day there was a great cheer in Edoras, for soon there would again be a Queen in the Golden Hall.

As for Amrothos, his comments – which were lengthy – could be summarised as such: "You just had to do that, didn't you?"


	2. Of Impatience

**2# Of Impatience**

The cloak was the shade of new grass of spring. Time had not touched its ever-young colour, nor the gold and silver embroidery about the hood and the edges of it. The gold of the brooch, which you could use to fasten the cloak, shined as the day its maker had finished it; round it was, depicting the sun and bearing a clear white jewel on the centre of it. The garment had been preserved back in Aldburg, and he supposed there had always been a part of him that had wished to give it to the woman he'd marry. Éowyn had insisted he keep it, though Éomer had tried to offer she have it. She was going to marry before him anyway, but she had given him one of those mysterious smiles and said this was how it should go. Princess Théodwyn's wedding cloak should be the one he would wrap around the shoulders of his wife.

Lothíriel was some inches taller than his mother had been, but Éomer was fairly sure it should still fit her, and he thought the shade of it would go beautifully with her skin. Of course she'd panic when she'd hear whose cloak this had been, but he also felt it would be all the more important for her when she had calmed down.

After all, the cloak was fit for a princess on her wedding day.

The temptation was bad. It would have been so easy to take that cloak right now, walk down the hall, and find her in the chamber she'd lodge in before they'd ride for Gondor. The way her eyes had lit up when he had said yes confirmed she'd agree to it right away – she'd let him wrap that cloak around her this very night if he just asked. And when that happened... well, if there was even one Eorling witnessing it, then it would be considered an abiding marriage. In the eyes of Rohirrim they would be married and that was that. The idea of having her this very day, to begin their lives together, was almost too much.

_This has to be a dream. _

Either his captain was reading his thoughts or just knew him very well, for that very moment there was a knock on the door and Éothain peeked in.

"You stop fumbling that cloak and get yourself moving, laddie. Everyone's expecting you already", Éothain called him in a way what could be by more sensitive characters be called coarse. "And if you're thinking of what I think you are, then you may very well rest peacefully in the knowledge that you're not going to marry her tonight."

Éomer gave his captain his most innocent expression, though he knew it had not convinced the other man after he had turned thirteen.

"I'd never", he said, feigning shock as he put away the green wedding cloak. _It would have to wait for now_.

"Even you don't believe that, you troll", said Éothain in what could only be called a fatherly fashion. "In any case I'm not going to let you treat her and her father so monstrously. Not to mention there are marriage contracts to be made, and preparations, and a hundred other things, because neither of you are people of small station."

"What do you take me for, old man? As tempted I am, I do wish to give her a proper wedding. She deserves every honour and esteem. And I suppose at this point we owe it to everybody", said the young king calmly and approached the door of the chamber to join his friend. Éothain nodded at him in silent satisfaction.

"Just as a word of warning, though. People seem to be on a rather festive mood. You know what that means, laddie, so let me just tell you that if you drink yourself silly tonight and end up giving her that cloak anyway, myself, your lady sister, and all the women of the household are going to be very unhappy with you", said the captain in a warning tone. As an answer Éomer just snorted and rolled his eyes. He wasn't sure why that was, but ever since he had become the king his friend seemed to have lost all his faith in the younger man's ability to think through things and take care of himself, especially when it came to simple matters like these.

But perhaps Éothain did have a point this time, because the moment they entered the Great Hall where the supper was to be served and he spotted Lothíriel's face, Éomer did begin to wonder if he should just get on with it. This was not helped at all by the fact that she was smiling at him in a way that made his heart flutter, or the way her hair picked up warm shades in the light of torches and candles, or that she looked quite lovely in the light blue gown she had changed into after the long journey she and her brother had made.

It hit him then, what it meant that she had agreed – and how very much that agreement contained. It meant the world, the very life. _She had said yes. _

"Damn it", he muttered under his breath and weighed in his mind the disadvantages and the benefits of just getting the blasted cloak right now.

But then suddenly a slap to the back of his head distracted him and he took note of the foul look on Éothain's face.

"Don't you even think of it", said the captain and pushed him forward. Éomer sighed to himself and took again control of his errant thoughts.

_Still. It might've been worth it just to see everyone's faces. _

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**A/N: **I'm just quietly going to leave this here and pretend I'm an individual who sleeps at nights instead of obsessively writing things. Up next: there will be kissing.

Thank you for reading and reviewing!


	3. A Long Kiss Goodnight

**3# A Long Kiss Goodnight**

Éomer walked Lothíriel to her chamber that night, apparently somewhat reluctant to let her out of his sight now that it was finally settled that they would marry indeed. She couldn't blame him, but the night was growing late and she was rather tired after the long journey.

At the door of her chamber she turned to look at him, finding herself suddenly reluctant for this day to end yet. Even if she was exhausted, she didn't want to tell him good night yet.

"Well", Lothíriel spoke up, smiling up at her betrothed. Of course she had yet to give him a ring as the customs demanded and they needed the formal consent of her father, but for her those were only peripheral matters, as jewellery was but trinkets and Father had never been anything but approving towards the matter of courtship (and as far as she knew it, he endorsed an outcome that would result in a marriage).

"It's been quite a day", she continued, though that was something of an understatement.

"Aye, it has been, and I still find myself astounded... you truly are a precious madwoman", he murmured. A soft enduring light danced in his eyes when looked at her then. "Nevertheless you have made me a very happy man, dearest Princess."

Gently, he reached over to her, to push back an errant lock of hair from her face, and then his fingers fell to rest against her cheek.

"As much I enjoyed surprising you so, I am starting to think I should have made up my mind long ago already. This waiting isn't going to be very easy, is it?" she mused, frowning slightly. She knew it was equally difficult for him, as he had told her of how his captain had lectured him just before the supper.

"I suppose not", he agreed. "But we will endure."

"Hmm. In that case I will try for now", Lothíriel grumbled. She chased away those thoughts and gave him a small smile, the kind that perhaps was somewhat sly, "Kiss me goodnight?"

"Gladly, my Lady Archer..." Éomer agreed, his dark eyes capturing her where she stood, and momentarily she considered perhaps it was not such a good idea to encourage _that _on the very door of her bedchamber_. _But then he moved the back of his fingers across her skin in a touch light as feathers, and thinking became mostly unnecessary.

He took a firm but gentle hold of her neck, letting his fingers fall there as a caress, feeling the warm delicate skin under her hair... the rough texture of his hand made her tremble against his touch and she breathed; she didn't know if she wanted to move closer to that touch or _him. _He solved that problem by leaning towards her, and his hand settled by the back of her neck, propping up her face ever so gently.

Her King was so close now and Lothíriel could feel his breath against her skin, teasing and inviting and savouring the moment before the kiss, and it was _too much _for her to resist. So she crossed that remaining space and caught his lips with her own.

Their kisses of before had often had the tendency of being rather insane, born of long partings and having to conceal their passions on the front of other people. Now Éomer did not show that urgent need. Instead when her affections threatened to turn impatient he answered them instead in soft, slow fashion, and she followed his lead... just _feeling _him, and letting him feel _her _in turn. She focused on the warmth of his cheek under her fingers, the texture of his mouth, the softness of his lips when compared to his beard... the hot, rich taste of his kiss that had the flavours of ale and something that was undeniably _him. _

As though moving on their own she placed hands on his waist, feeling the contours of his battle-hardened body through the layers of clothing he wore; she had never touched him so but it didn't feel wrong at all... and there was a soft groan at the back of his throat... he moved closer even, cradling her head with his both hands. Somehow, it felt like he was now closer to her than he had ever been before, and she decided it was right and how it was supposed to be. In his closeness there was something she had never known to _need _before, but now she did.

It was no wonder that Amrothos' clearing his throat awkwardly did not occur to either of them, and by the time Lothíriel finally became aware of the noise, his attempt to distract them had already become a proper coughing fit.

"Sweet Elbereth, are you choking on something, brother?" she asked – her voice was rather husky, but that couldn't be helped after being so thoroughly kissed – when Éomer pulled back and turned to see what the noise was about.

"I just came to tell you good night, Lothíriel", said her brother, who looked very uncomfortable.

"Oh, I was just doing the same", said the King of Rohan lightly, flashing a wide smile to the poor prince.

"Ah, yes. I can see that", Amrothos muttered and gave his sister a pointed look. She held back a chuckle and turned to smile at her dear horselord.

"Good night, then. I'll see you tomorrow", she told him, which Éomer answered with planting a very chaste kiss on her brow. Only when he sauntered away, carrying himself like only a very happy man would, Lothíriel could really breathe properly. She watched him go and when he was gone did she turn to look at her brother. Unsurprisingly, he was frowning.

"You shouldn't let a man kiss you like that", he scolded her half-heartedly.

"Is that what you tell girls when you kiss them?" Lothíriel asked back, which did take him aback. "Really, first you won't stop throwing the man at me and then you're upset that I kiss him? One must wonder which one of us really is the absurd one."

Amrothos snorted, but she knew when she had beaten him.

"Just don't get pregnant before Father has given you his consent", he muttered, obviously aware he was fighting a lost cause.

"You would love that, wouldn't you?" she sniggered. Hugging him would have been too strange after the recent kissing, so she just patted his arm. "Good night, brother."

"Good night. Lock your door. Your windows, too", he advised, which she rewarded with a rude noise.

"I said good night!"

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**A/N: **I was in the need of some fluffiness because the next chapter of _A Light that Endures _is being troublesome and also because I have lost control of my life. Hope you liked this little bit as much I liked writing it!


	4. Home

**4# Home**

Night was upon Meduseld.

It was quiet and calm and the place was in peaceful slumber; only some moonlight from outside illuminated the Hall of the Kings of the Riddermark. It was cool there as well, for the fires were not burning and the morning was hours away still.

Éomer had always been a light sleeper. Years of war had taught him that too heavy a rest could very well end with a blade in his guts, and on the other hand the skill to slip into light sleep to regain one's strength could mean all the difference in the many strifes that could fall upon a man who made battles his profession. Since the war had ended some restlessness still came to him at times and he would find it difficult if not impossible to find any rest.

This was one of such nights, and after tossing and turning around in his bed for some time he had finally put on clothes and ventured out. Sleeping would have been a good idea, as they were headed for Gondor on the morrow, but something was keeping him awake. He was not sure what it was, as he had already grown accustomed to the sounds and the smells of Meduseld. In the beginning it had been difficult and half the time he had expected to turn around and find himself back in Aldburg. The first months of his rule had been like some bizarre dream.

_If Théodred lived, I would not be here now. _

Quietly he made way through the Hall, touching fingertips to this or that object that he passed by. The carved wooden pillars, the blackened irons by the fireplace, the tables... it was all familiar, and yet somehow it still didn't feel like home.

The young king came at last to the dais. There sat the throne, empty on this late hour, but not even slightly less formidable than it always was – even if it was his seat now. Éomer considered the wooden chair and wondered if he should be embarrassed that he couldn't remember which of his predecessors had first commissioned it. Surely it had not been in use when Eorl had ruled? After all, the building of the capital had been unfinished when he had died.

The throne's shade was warm brown with a reddish tint. Its surface even felt warm to his touch when he lay a hand on the back of it. The decorations were elaborate: there was a large sun in the centre of it, with smaller round devices above it. Armrests had been carved in the image of two horses, standing proud and strong. The seat was of good, sturdy build and it was very heavy. Even he had difficulty moving it on his own, though he certainly wasn't weakest of men.

_My throne... my Hall. My realm. _

In the beginning, that thought had intimidated him. And in all honesty Éomer had never felt more lost than the day he had become king. A part of him had even been angry at his uncle for leaving him with this burden. Only to Aragorn he had spoken of it, as he had felt no one else would quite understand. But now...

Now it was different. He felt he could do this... and tomorrow, they'd ride for Gondor. Once there, they would meet Imrahil, and he was fairly sure the Prince would be happy to give his consent. Some time soon, a Queen would stand beside this throne. _A true lioness among women. _

Perhaps then Meduseld too would start to feel like a home.

It was as if the thought of her had summoned her, for suddenly Éomer heard someone approaching. Her slippers made only a very soft sound against the stone of the floor, but his ears picked it up and he smiled to himself, though he didn't turn to look at her. He knew that light footfall.

Then strong, slender arms wrapped about his waist and her figure was pressed against his back and she rested her cheek against his shoulder. She probably didn't know how that made his heart beat at an uneven pace, like it only had when he had been a very young rider. But that was _Lothíriel, _and he expected nothing less. She had him like no one else before her.

"Mmm", she breathed into his shoulder. "You smell nice. Have I ever told you that?"

"I don't believe you have", he replied, feeling even the smallest bits of tension leaving his body. His heart calmed down as well and there was a peaceful feeling on him, the kind he had not often known during the stormy years of his life.

"Why are you sneaking about in the dark, my king?" she asked softly. "Can't get any sleep?"

"It's my house, so I can sneak about if I want", he said good-humouredly and turned around (she eased the hold of her arms just enough to allow that). He wrapped his own arms about his bride and considered her, "You're not in your bed either."

"I slept for a bit but then I woke up thirsty and went to the kitchens to find something to drink. It felt a bit wrong, though. I'm just a guest here, after all", she said, resting her hands on his hips.

"You shouldn't think like that, dear one. You're never just a guest in my house. After all, it will soon be _yours _too", he reminded her. The thought still made him giddy. Lothíriel smiled and tiptoed to kiss him, which was very welcome.

"You do really think like that?" she asked. "I'm not just a stranger here, or -"

Éomer stopped her before she could let the idea grow any more than that.

"Don't be silly, my Princess", he said strictly. "Everything that is mine is yours too. And it's not really _my _house, but _ours. _It's _our _home."

Her smile somehow turned deeper at those words, bringing light to her eyes. His wife-to-be hugged him tight.

"Our home. I like that", she murmured softly and rested her head on his shoulder. "It's strange, isn't it? Knowing this is where... we'll spend our years together here."

"Aye", was all he could answer for a slightly dizzy feeling inside him. He was so happy he could barely breathe. It took a moment to get a hold of himself again and he pulled back so that he could see her face. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"Hmm. Yes. It's going to take a while, after all", Lothíriel agreed, her hands rubbing at his back in a fashion that was probably absent-minded but resulted as very enjoyable – even to the point of giving him some ideas he should not entertain here. Unaware of this she gave him another kiss, but it was quick this time. "Now, unless you're planning to hold court in the middle of a night, perhaps we should both get to bed. It'll be a long day tomorrow."

The King of Rohan pushed away all improper urges to sweep her off her feet and carry her into his chambers. _We can wait... for now, at least. _

"Sleep well, my love."

"You too, sweet king of mine."

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**A/N: **My muse thought more fluffy things were in order. Who am I to refuse? :D Also, I'm not opposed to prompts if you, my dear readers, happen to have any!

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

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**Talia119 - **Now I'm stuck with this picture of Amrothos standing guard under Lothíriel's window and wondering if it was a very good idea to push the two together in the first place. :D


	5. Smile

**5# Smile**

Something Lothíriel often did was watching Éomer.

Ever since the beginning of their courtship she had often found herself regarding him... studying the strong lines of his face, the movement of his lips when he spoke, those frowns that could just slightly crease his brow or turn his features outright scary. He was a man who knew how to be terrifying.

He had a lively face indeed, the kind that very much embodied the vivid personality and spirit of him. And as his frowns could be dark so could his smiles turn him into a man more handsome than he had any right to be... turning her knees into wobbly things and making her feel like some silly air-headed thing giggling and blushing at the sight of a gallant knight.

The thing she eventually noticed about it was that his smile always came more out of his eyes than his mouth. Light would appear there and there would be warmth about his gaze, a soft enduring kind she wanted to hold on to, and not let go. With that smile he looked at her and tenderness would glimmer in the dark pools of his eyes as well, and it would smooth the contours of his face into something that held nothing stern or rough. From behind the war-hardened man emerged someone she knew she could and would love with all of her might.

The thing about those smiles, the kind that got through her walls and fears and uncertainties without feeling wrong or intruding, was she didn't know at first how to handle it. It was a bit bewildering at first before she grew more accustomed to it, for before she had not known such genuineness in any man or woman, and the straightforward intensity of his affection for her was often overwhelming.

And when he smiled, she was most overwhelmed.

Afterwards, when she spoke to Aredhel of it, her sister-in-law would smile knowingly and pat her arm.

"That, my dear sister, is what it feels like to be in love."

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**A/N: **It appears my muse has developed an enormous sweet tooth as of late. I apologise for all the fluffiness this piece is presently displaying. Well, I suppose it's a counter reaction to the stuff that is going on in _A Light that Endures, _and who am I to tell no to my muse?

Thanks for reading and reviewing!

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**Talia119 - **They would both have loved that, no doubt. :D But neither would have really cared for all the explanations they would have had to make in that case...

**Wondereye - **Yes, I believe it is something to give strength on more arduous times.


	6. A Promise

**6# A Promise**

"Relax, dear one. It will be fine. What reason does your father have to suddenly change his mind?"

Those words Éomer spoke after they had entered the fifth level of the White City and were starting to near their destination. That destination was of course the House of Princes of Dol Amroth, where they were hoping to find Lothíriel's father. Then Éomer would ask for her hand in marriage. Journey from the Mark had been long and at this point both of them were thoroughly anxious to have this matter settled for good.

When they had talked about it the last night they had both agreed her father would most likely comply (though personally she thought it silly that they needed anyone else's approval than their own), but now as they were getting closer a sudden paranoia had awakened in Lothíriel and she had started to wonder if Father wouldn't look at their plead so kindly. Even then, she did recognise she was being unnecessarily nervous, because her sire had never expressed anything else than good will towards the King of Rohan and the idea of marriage between Éomer and Lothíriel.

"I know that", she told her horselord now, though she was frowning. "Just have the horses ready in case we need to -"

She did not get a chance to finish that sentence, for Éomer guided his stallion next to her steed, reached over to her shoulder, and leaned towards her to kiss her.

Kiss her, there in the middle of a street of the fifth level of Minas Tirith! But then, nothing could top that day in Harlond when he had made his stallion jump into the ship that was supposed to take her back to Dol Amroth, and then kissed her in the front of the busy port. The man had no shame at all.

"Don't worry, my dear Lady Archer. In the extremely unlikely situation your father says no I swear to you we will immediately elope. I'm sure the King of Dale would be happy to hide us", he told her and smiled most charmingly when he had pulled back and left her feeling slightly breathless. Instead of speaking she just made a face at him. Even so, he had succeeded in consoling her, and the rest of the way was made without any panicking.

They arrived in the courtyard of her father's house not long after and the guards and the staff looked very surprised for the sudden arrival of the King of Rohan. Then they noticed Lothíriel and Amrothos among the escort, which was probably even more surprising – she didn't think it was common knowledge where she and her brother had gone. The courtyard sprung to life as riders dismounted and filled the air with the lively tones of Rohirric.

The butler of the household, an elderly man named Fairion who had been in charge of the Prince's house as long as Lothíriel had lived, had arrived to receive the unexpected guests. He too looked surprised to see the company gathered by Prince Imrahil's doors. Truthfully speaking a group of Rohirric Riders always seemed to stir up things.

"Fairion! Is Father in residence?" called Lothíriel. She was still mounted but Éomer had come to her side, and taking support from him she leaped from the saddle.

"Yes, my lady, but I'm afraid he's not quite prepared for a gathering like this..." Fairion said, blinking at her.

"I told you we should have sent a word beforehand", Amrothos grumbled. He had long since given up his attempts of chaperoning for his sister – he had even told her he personally considered it'd just have been much easier for everyone if they had got over with the wedding back in Rohan.

"Why send a word when you can go yourself?" she asked him lightly and turned to look at her King beside her. He was giving her one of those looks, the kind that usually did strange things to her heart beat and even more so made her want to kiss him. But perhaps that could wait for later.

"Ready?" she asked him softly, at which he smiled.

"I've never been more ready, beloved", he informed her and offered her his arm. She took it and turned again to look at Fairion.

"Could you perhaps announce us to my father?" she asked. The man apparently sensed something was afoot and when he had bowed at her he hurried inside to inform her father of their arrival.

Side by side they made way inside the house, and Fairion was there to escort them to the parlour. Amrothos had fallen behind, recognising a moment that required some privacy. And there, in the sunny sitting room, was Father waiting, and he looked like he had been deep in his studies and labours when the butler had come to announce the arrival of his daughter and the King of Rohan. He did not seem surprised at all to see them together, and Lothíriel guessed that was because a word had already come from Dol Amroth to inform him of the latest mischief two of his youngest children had conjured.

"Hello Father", Lothíriel said, grinning shakily at her sire; a panicky feeling was threatening to return but when she glanced at the man beside her she felt reassured again.

"Welcome back, daughter... and good to see you as well, Éomer", said Father with just the faintest lift of his eyebrows.

"Imrahil", said her beloved, nodding at the older man. Father gestured them to sit down, which they did, though Lothíriel quickly began fidgeting.

"I did not know to expect the pleasure of receiving you both today. I had assumed I would have to come and fetch Lothíriel from Rohan, unless she decided to make that travel by herself, or Amrothos dragged her home", Father commented, regarding the two with a studying look in his eyes. "Speaking of him, where is he?"

"Oh, he's outside. He thought that, hmm, maybe we'd like to meet you in peace", Lothíriel said. She glanced at Éomer beside her and then looked at Father again; his eyebrows had shot up to his hairline and she guessed he already knew what was about to happen.

Her King took lead then, straightening where he sat.

"Imrahil, last spring after the war you told me you would not be opposed to me courting your daughter, and you made it clear you had nothing but good will towards the idea of a marriage between myself and Lothíriel. And since then I have only grown more convinced that it is her I would share my life with, if she so wills. Now she has given me her answer", he started and then turned to look at her. This was, after all, a choice they had made together, and together they would speak of it to Imrahil.

"Father, I would like to marry this maddening fellow, because I'm very fond of him and to be honest I'm not likely to find anyone else willing to put up with me as he does. It would make us both tremendously happy if you gave us your blessing", she announced. She couldn't help a slightly mad grin, "But if you won't give it, please say so quickly, because in that case we will have to plan our elopement."

When Father got up Lothíriel saw there were tears in his eyes, though he was smiling. He crossed the space between them, and as she and her beloved rose up too, he reached for both their hands. Then, without a word, he placed her hand in that of Éomer.

"I will gladly give my blessing", he said, his voice heavy with tears, "for I already know nowhere will you be as happy and cherished as with him, and fathers rarely have the honour of giving a beloved daughter's hand to a man so fine as Éomer our friend is."

With a cry of delight she jumped to hug her dear father, and then Éomer, and then Father again, and from somewhere happy tears sprung to her cheeks, but her beloved kissed them away when she turned towards him again, though he looked like he too was fighting similar emotion. A long while went in such fashion and she didn't know if she had ever felt quite so happy. It all made such beautiful sense, that they should be here now, and that there would be a future ahead which she shared with Éomer.

That day, when Lothíriel's father gave blessing to their union, the world seemed to be more full of promise than it had ever been.

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**A/N: **And here's little something for Friday! Hope you enjoyed it. :) Maybe this one is not so sweet as to rot away your teeth, but it's light nevertheless and something hopeful is good every now and then.

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**Wondereye - **I'm afraid _A Light that Endures _will have to move on its own weight, though that may be difficult and depressing at times. But here at least is something gentle, as this piece's name _Flickers of Light _should promise!


	7. Worthy

**7# Worthy**

"What is it about her? Why is she worth a crown?"

That question was uttered softly in the crowd filling the hall of Merethrond. Lothíriel heard it because it came not too far from her right; she stood with Éomer her betrothed, and with them were her father and King Elessar. The last-mentioned was presently giving a speech on the matter of new ties of an alliance between the two kingdoms. She heard, because she had already stood there more tense than she had ever thought to stand beside her horselord, and because the hundreds of eyes fixed on them had made her almost painfully aware of not only herself but also of her surroundings.

The whisper came from a pair of ladies she remembered were somehow related to Lord Húrin of the Keys, accompanied by a stare uncomprehending. The wonder in their gazes was genuine as they measured and assessed her... asking to themselves why would a king look at her and desire her as his queen.

It was not their high position, or the envy she sensed behind those words that brought her sudden doubt – after all she was the daughter of one of the greatest lords in the land and Lothíriel could very well understand why would someone desire the man she was now betrothed to. Rather it was the question that rose with those words.

_Am I worthy of a crown? _

She could love Éomer with all her heart, and he could love her in turn just as much. But that love did not mean she'd be a good wife or a decent queen. And the more she thought of it the more terrified she felt.

The rest of King Elessar's speech went unnoticed by her, and when it was announced the feast in the honour of this promised union was to begin, she walked beside Éomer stiffly, trying to fight back the horrible feeling she had done something very stupid here, and that she'd turn out a complete disappointment not only to him but to his people as well.

But then Éomer spoke suddenly.

"I heard it too", he said softly. "Don't let it bother you."

"It's a valid point. You know I'm not really a lady and... I don't know if I'll be a very good consort for a king", she mumbled under her breath.

"Being a good queen or beloved of mine does not require you to be a lady. Strength of heart and will are far more important", Éomer said calmly and she could feel his eyes on her; she wanted to turn and look at him too, but something was holding her back. He went on, "Do you think I was born to be a king? Or that I wasn't scared when I understood it would be my fate anyway?"

"You? Scared?" Lothíriel wondered out loud in suspicion, which made him laugh.

"It does happen occasionally, aye", he murmured. "Don't worry, my Princess. As your father insisted on such a long engagement, you'll have plenty of time to prepare. And Éowyn will help you. You will do well."

She stopped then, which effectively stopped the entire line behind them. But she didn't care.

"You think I'm worthy?" she asked him, daring to look at him at last. Her King answered her gaze steadily, smiling at her.

"You are worth the world, dear one. One day you will see that too", Éomer told her. His smile turned somewhat crooked then, and in his voice there was temptation that brought her a breathless feeling: "Perhaps those ladies should know that as well."

And though he did not kiss her properly there – that would have been too much, even for a pair so scandalous – but he did pick up both her hands and kiss the palms of them that left nothing for guessing. She felt reassured... and to herself she thought: _For you, I will become a Queen. _

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**A/N: **Here's little something for Monday. Hope you liked it!


	8. Summer

**8# Summer**

_Early June 3020, Field of Cormallen _

The night was full of song and laughter.

Lothíriel imagined this was how it must have been like a year ago, when the war had ended and the forces of Gondor and Rohan had settled in this very same place to rest and feast. Field of Cormallen had filled once again with noise of veterans of that great war, but now they were also celebrating a prosperous year that had come after the fall of Sauron.

That festive mood also meant Father's eye was quite not so sharp tonight, and neither did he insist on escorting his daughter to her tent when she voiced out how tired she was. He wasn't usually much of a drinker but he had enjoyed some wine tonight, and so he just kissed her brow and wished her goodnight, and without a further word she had slipped away. Ever since the King of Rohan with his riders had arrived Father had been watching her like a hawk, which was no wonder. Their betrothal appeared to have changed many things, and sneaking out to meet Éomer in private had become very difficult.

It wouldn't have been worth the effort to explain her father her point of view. He'd never have understood it and he didn't have to. But to herself, and to her betrothed, it was enough: they had made their promises, and to her it meant their hearts and fates were already intertwined.

And so it was that rather than seeking her tent she sneaked to the river, to wait there for him as they had agreed before. Night by Anduin was fair and the air was warm; in it mixed the forest and flowers and smoke from camp fires. Summer had come and in her heart there was no care.

Soon she could hear steps from the shadows of the evening, and when she turned she saw Éomer approaching. At the sight of her he smiled and Lothíriel rushed to meet him. That during the hours of the day they were always surrounded by people meant there were few chances for shows of affection, and she was more than anxious to remedy that.

He caught her with a soft laugh and a long sweet moment was spent in the middle of kisses. After a while, she pulled back, but only slightly, and she settled her arms about his neck.

"Was it difficult to sneak away from under Éothain's nose?" she asked.

"Not really. I learned to do that long ago. Your brother Elphir was much more difficult to get rid of", he replied and gave her another kiss, smaller this time.

"Will you be in much trouble later?" she asked, her breath dancing with his.

"Mm. Maybe. But Éothain understands romance... he'll forgive me", he said.

"As he very well should. Ever since you arrived, there has not been a quiet moment when I get to have you only for myself", Lothíriel grumbled, idly curling his hair about her fingers. "Just so you know, I'm contemplating the possibility of persuading you into eloping with me."

That brought another soft laugh out of him and light, springing from some deep corners of his heart, gleamed in his eyes.

"How have I missed you, my dear mad princess", Éomer murmured. Then he leaned closer to her again, pulling her against himself. His face was only inches from hers when he asked: "Do you remember the last time we were here together?"

Lothíriel could but laugh.

"Oh, yes. You were skinny-dipping in Anduin, completely unaware of me hiding in a bush nearby", she said, grinning as she spoke.

"Aye. I never asked just how much you saw", he chortled.

"Everything, my dear king. I saw everything", she replied, unable to hide her smugness. "And let me tell you I've never seen anything quite as glorious."

He chuckled softly, unabashed as only he could be.

"No wonder you tried to avoid me so hard, you impossible woman..." he whispered, and then he brought his lips to hers.

The kiss began slowly. The grip of her arms about his neck became firmer, and his hands settled on her waist. It was just the kiss she had wanted to give him ever since she had first spotted him approaching the camp, surrounded by his riders and looking far more handsome than he had any right. To keep him close she rested her hand on the back of his neck, running fingers over the warm skin under his hair...

Abruptly he stopped. He gazed at her, and now the light had become more of a fire; both their breathing had become laboured.

"It would be a good moment to stop now", Éomer said hoarsely, though he did not make a move to let go of her.

For a moment, Lothíriel considered those words. She could see what a level-headed, well-bred princess was supposed to do here... but then, such a lady would never have sneaked away to meet him in the first place.

And she was going to marry him. It could be next year, but it was going to happen. Not many things made sense in her world, but he did, and she knew she could trust that.

So she chose to leap... no, not leap. She wanted to _fly. _

"I don't want to stop", Lothíriel said at last, pronouncing the words very carefully. "What I want is... you."

He did not ask her if she was certain, or tell her this was not a good idea. Instead she could see that same reasoning in his eyes... the same conviction. His life could not be torn away from hers. Perhaps that had been true from the very beginning.

"Come with me", he simply said, and pulled at her hand. Without questions, and without a trace of doubt, Lothíriel followed.

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**A/N: **I am sorry, but this collection of asides has apparently become the place where I dump everything that is too sweet and fluffy to put anywhere else.

... oh, what the heck. I'm not sorry at all.

Now, I guess you've already realised this is the time when our lovers' relationship became physical. I'm hesitating whether I should continue from here or just keep this "fade to black" ending and move over to the next topic. I'll have to see what my muse says, but I'd also appreciate comments on the matter!

Hope you liked this little thing, and thanks for reading and reviewing!

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**Thalia - **Thank you for your kind words! I'm really glad you like my stories. :) Also I can tell you right now I've got ideas for at least three stories, so it doesn't look like I'm going to stop writing Éomer/Lothíriel any time soon!

**Wondereye - **To be honest, I'm not sure Éomer would consider it worth his while to waste words on some gossipers. At any rate he'd probably rather like to show his love for Lothíriel in deeds than in scolding some random ladies.


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